Yakushima rains often. The island is green with remembering. I hiked into the forest with soaked boots and an open heart. Ancient cedars stood like elders. The path was moss and silence. Monkeys watched from trees. A deer crossed the trail, paused, then vanished. At Jomon Sugi, the oldest tree, I sat for an hour. No talking. Just listening. I opened 카지노사이트, then quickly closed it. Some places ask for full presence. The rain fell again, soft and steady. Later, at an onsen, I soaked under falling water. I shared a quiet dinner with fellow hikers — no names exchanged. Before sleep, I scrolled 온라인카지노 just long enough to say: "Today, I breathed slower." Yakushima didn’t give me answers. It helped me ask better questions.